


You were always going to be the one

by DesignatedGrape



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesignatedGrape/pseuds/DesignatedGrape
Summary: David pulls out his phone to quadruple-check his flight information for tomorrow. Saturday, June 20th, 10:13 a.m., JFK to YYZ. The timing could be better--he’ll need to wake up at the ungodly hour of 7:30 a.m. in order to get ready and be at the airport on time--but there is exactly one person in the world he is willing to make that sacrifice for, and tomorrow is his birthday.David is done with New York and headed for a new life in Vancouver, but with a few days to kill, he decides to make a quick visit home to Toronto first.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 168
Kudos: 374





	1. I had a dream last night

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, David has had Stevie and Patrick in his life for many years, so I imagine him a little softer and a little less emotionally skittish than canon David.
> 
> Thank you to [Poutini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini) for betaing, and for using her real-world skills to push me to make this better.

David leans back against the bar and fiddles with a cufflink as he scans the room. His attention doesn’t settle on anything or anyone in particular; he just wants to take in the space, and the people and the art within it. Patrons mingle in small groups, making slow circles around the gallery. The conversations are all too muted to really hear, so everything coalesces into a generic hum of pretentious lecturing, self-indulgent chatter, and--rarely--genuine conversation and artistic discussion, all punctuated with the occasional burst of laughter. In the background, canvases with bold reds, blues, and yellows stand out in contrast to the mostly-monochrome aesthetic of everyone’s fashion choices. It makes for a lovely picture, he has to admit. 

David reaches for his champagne flute and takes a sip. Samantha chose a nice one. Laurent-Perrier: just pretentious enough for an opening, and very delicious. 

He surveys the crowd more closely, now. It’s a mix tonight: there are plenty of Wall Street forty- and fifty-somethings looking to impress the waif twenty-somethings on their arms with how casually they can throw around thousands of dollars, and plenty of young socialites who are mostly there to see and be seen, but there are also some art students and old school New York artistic types who are genuinely interested in the exhibition. It’s a good turnout, and Jasmine had let him know a few minutes ago that they’d already sold five works this evening, including two of the most expensive pieces. It’s shaping up to be a profitable night. 

He can’t fucking wait for it to be over so he never has to do this again.

His apartment is empty, and he dropped the keys off to his landlord before coming into the gallery today. The movers loaded up the truck this morning, but they won’t get to Vancouver until Tuesday. (He paid through the nose for the temperature-controlled cargo container for his sweaters, but really, can you put a price on proper handling of designer knitwear?) His two large suitcases are stashed in his office in the back of the gallery, and he has a reservation tonight at his favorite hotel to celebrate his last night in New York. He won't be there long enough to do much more than sleep, but he wanted to treat himself to a place that feels like home, in a city that no longer does. He flies to Toronto tomorrow for a short visit, and then he’ll make the last leg of the trip on Monday.

Almost thirteen years ago, David had come here as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, ready for independence and adventure. He earned his BFA from The New School and started working for the Krause Gallery right after graduation. It was a relatively new gallery at the time, but as it started gaining recognition, more and more artists became interested in being shown, and David’s job became increasingly more stressful and substantially less fulfilling. He had been promoted to Creative Director almost a year ago, and he had hoped the added responsibility and prestige--and accompanying raise--would improve his outlook. They didn’t.

He also had to admit to himself that he was falling out of love with New York. He had thought for his whole life that New York was where he was destined to be, and it was, for a time, but now it was starting to feel like a city for a different David, a younger one who had something to prove. He had turned thirty the year before--not that he would ever  _ tell  _ anyone that--and while he still had the flawless skin of a twenty-two-year-old, he didn’t have the professional or personal goals of one. He had started to feel the old familiar tug of needing something different, but this time he knew he needed to downsize, to reprioritize. So, Vancouver.

He had accepted a position at Access Gallery, a non-profit where he would be helping to discover and nurture emerging Canadian artists and give them a safe space for innovation, in a city with a thriving and growing local contemporary art scene. The job was going to be challenging and varied and exciting, and he was taking a massive pay cut, and that was fine. In exchange, he’d have the chance to build a different life for himself than he would have been able to in New York; to build a different David than he had thought, at eighteen, he might become. And that was fucking great.

Gallery closed for the night and last hugs to Benjamin and Jasmine given, David hauls his suitcases out to his waiting Uber and slides into the backseat. He pulls out his phone to quadruple-check his flight information for tomorrow. Saturday, June 20th, 10:13 a.m., JFK to YYZ. No chance of switching the month and date around like Alexis always does (and always denies). The timing could be better--he’ll need to wake up at the ungodly hour of 7:30 a.m. in order to get ready and be at the airport on time--but there is exactly one person in the world he is willing to make that sacrifice for, and tomorrow is his birthday.

The car drops him off outside SIXTY LES at 11:23 p.m., and by midnight, David is collapsing into bed, exhausted. As expected, 7:30 a.m. comes far too early, but the storm of excitement and nerves that bubbles up in David’s chest as soon as his alarm goes off helps him to get out of bed with only one snooze. He takes a quick shower and does as much of his skincare routine as he can manage in the limited time he has to get ready, and then he’s out the door, off to the airport, and saying a final goodbye to his life in New York.


	2. I just had this feeling we’d be here again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday

Patrick  
  
**Today** 12:56 PM  
**David:** Hey, what are you doing right now?  
  
**Patrick:** Hey! Playing in a baseball game. Waiting for my turn at bat. Why?  
  
**David:** If someone were to theoretically want to come see you in about half an hour, where might that someone go?  
  
**David:**...It's me. I'm someone.  
  
**Patrick:** You're in Toronto???   
  
**David:** Surprise.  
  
**David:** Just picked up my rental car. How long will you be at the game?  
  
**Patrick:** Oh my god, David!  
  
**Patrick:** It's the bottom of the eighth, and we're up by five.  
  
**David:** I think you know I don't know what any of that means.  
  


David can feel Patrick's laughter even through text, even though Patrick doesn't send so much as an emoji or a "haha." David can picture everything: a teasing smile accompanied by sparkling brown eyes, a warm laugh that always makes David feel seen rather than excluded, a squeeze on the shoulder or a pat on the arm that David can still feel for hours afterwards.

**Patrick:** It means come to the baseball field at Smythe Park, David.  
  
**Patrick:** Can't wait to see you.  
  


David first met Patrick when his family moved to Toronto midway through grade ten. David didn’t think much of him at first, except that he was cute in that preppy jock kind of way. They had French and biology together, and Patrick, clearly not knowing what he was getting himself into, had asked David if he wanted to be his lab partner. David had agreed, under the condition that he would never have to touch a dead animal, and instead of laughing at him, Patrick had just winked and said, “Scout’s honor.”

And thank god for that nerdy boy scout, because it had turned out that biology was really fucking difficult, and David had relied on him a lot for extra help that semester. In fairness, though, Patrick was _terrible_ at French, so David helped him memorize conjugations and which nouns were masculin ou féminin (though gendering random nouns always seemed pretty neolithic to David, but no one had asked him). And if one of his teaching methods was crowding behind a shared laptop and looking up dirty French phrases that they could whisper to each other in the middle of class to try and make the other laugh and get scolded by the teacher, that was neither here nor there. 

Patrick also got along perfectly with Stevie, which was awful, because it meant they had spent every lunch period torturing David into getting so worked up over something that he couldn’t help but set them straight about their incorrect opinions. It had always ended with Stevie and Patrick dissolving into uncontrollable giggles and David giving them the silent treatment. But while Stevie would just let him pout for the rest of lunch, Patrick would usually buy him a cookie or tell him an embarrassing story about himself, so in the end, everything had balanced out.

They had all split up when it was time for university--David to New York, Patrick to Montréal, Stevie staying in Toronto--but they kept in touch and saw each other during breaks, and incredibly, their friendship had only grown stronger over the years. After graduation, even though he stayed in New York, David still came back to visit as often as he could. Yes, he wanted to see his family and Stevie, but the biggest reason, the reason he could never make it more than six months before the tugging on his heart became too much to bear, was that he was completely, hopelessly in love with Patrick.

David had always had feelings for him, really, ever since that first stupid wink of his when they were fifteen years old, but he had been able to keep it under control. Through baseball games and musicals and art shows, and especially when Patrick started dating Rachel during grade twelve, the fizzy feeling David felt whenever he was near Patrick, or thought about Patrick, could be contained to just a low hum of static: always there, but easy enough to ignore once he got used to it. During their years apart, though, every time they saw each other, the noise had gotten louder and louder, and harder and harder to quiet when they inevitably had to part ways.

When Patrick and Rachel had broken up last year for what Patrick had assured David was the last time ("I mean it this time. We're done."), it was like a dam had broken inside David, and all of the feelings he had blockaded into the back of his mind for over a decade had come rushing to the forefront. Every time he and Patrick talked, he could feel the words bubbling up on his tongue, threatening to spill out and ruin his relationship with his best friend. The promotion at the gallery had come at the perfect time, because David was suddenly so busy with work that it wasn't especially conspicuous if his daily texting or FaceTiming with Patrick dropped to every few days, and then once a week, and then once in a while. There were no hard feelings. It had just been a little easier this way, to have some time to recover from Patrick before their next conversation.

But now, David is about to see him for the first time in over a year and a half, and he is crawling out of his skin with worry that things won't be the same as before, or maybe that they'll be exactly the same as before. He's not sure which would be worse. 

The game seems to be over by the time David arrives, if the nearly-empty parking lot is any indication. In the distance, he sees two figures in green and white uniforms tossing a ball back and forth. As he approaches, one says something to the other, gives a wave, and then starts jogging toward David. _Patrick._ God, he looks good. His tight uniform shows off his muscular shoulders and thighs and accentuates his trim waist, and he's wearing a blinding smile that's just for David.

Patrick drops his glove mid-run and barrels into David with a massive bear hug. The force of it knocks him back a few steps, but Patrick's strong arms steady him and squeeze tighter, keeping David close. Patrick smells like grass and sweat and drugstore deodorant, a combination that should be disgusting, except that it's so distinctly, wonderfully Patrick that David can't help breathing it in. Patrick pats him on the back a few times, the international bro symbol for "the hug is over now," but David has hugged Patrick enough times over the years to know that he can keep holding on. Sure enough, a moment later, Patrick's hands are smoothing across David's shoulder blades, just like they always have, and as he sinks deeper into the familiar comfort of Patrick's touch, all of the worries about seeing Patrick again start to melt away.

"What are you doing here?" Patrick finally asks, as he takes a step back. 

David spreads his hands to the sides. "Happy Birthday?"

"It is now, for sure.” His grin widens, which David didn’t think was possible. “I thought you were moving this weekend?"

"I am. I just thought I'd stop in Toronto first. I haven't seen Alexis since she came to New York for the holidays, and I haven't seen you and Stevie in forever."

"How long are you here?"

"Just until Monday morning."

"You'll come to my party tonight, right? Alexis and Stevie are coming, too."

David scratches his chin in faux contemplation. "I mean, I'll think about it? I'll have to see if I get any better offers."

"Oh yeah, of course, of course. If you don't get any better offers." Patrick tries to school his expression into something serious, but he can't keep up the game, and his face breaks into another smile. "I'm really glad you're here, David."

"Me too. But I'm also starving."

"Shocking. Want to go get lunch?"

"Absolutely."

\----------

David pulls open the door to Patrick’s apartment building and holds it for Alexis and Stevie before following them to the stairs. Why Patrick decided to rent a third-floor apartment in a building with no elevator is beyond him, but he'd stopped trying to figure out Patrick's more athletically-minded decisions years ago.

"I still can't believe you went to hang out with Patrick before you even _texted_ us, David," Alexis huffs.

"Really?" Stevie interjects. "Because I can absolutely believe it."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" David asks, affronted.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean."

"Aw, David, do you still have that little crush on Patrick?"

"I do not have a _crush_ on Patrick. He's my best friend." Stevie smacks his arm. "Ow! Fine! One of my best friends. And anyway, I haven't seen him in a year and a half. I saw you in December."

"You didn't see me in December, though," Stevie points out. 

_Oops._

"Well, I...didn't text you because I figured you'd still be sleeping."

"Excuse me, I'm an _adult_ now. I'll have you know I was up bright and early at 11 a.m." Stevie opens the stairwell door and leads them out into the third floor hallway. "And that's a terrible excuse."

"It's his birthday!" He’s getting defensive, now, which is dangerous territory, especially in the presence of Alexis and Stevie. 

“That’s a slightly better excuse.” Stevie smirks at him.

Alexis pushes past Stevie and knocks on Patrick's apartment door. "Yeah, but like, it still doesn't change the fact that you're _totally_ \--"

Alexis is interrupted by the apartment door opening, thank _god,_ because David really didn't want to have to figure out how to plausibly deny what she was about to say.

"Hey guys!" Patrick greets them cheerfully. He's changed into what has, post-college, become his typical uniform of a button up, jeans, and a braided belt, but this is...so much more than that. He's wearing a well-tailored, dark denim shirt in the same shade of indigo as his extremely tight pants, and where Patrick got the fashion instincts to be able to make double denim look good is beyond David's comprehension, but damn, he really, _really_ does.

"Happy Birthday, Patrick!" Alexis gives him a nose boop, and then plucks at the shoulders of his shirt. "Oh my god, look at you, you little hottie! Loving this look for you!"

Patrick chuckles and takes a subtle step away from Alexis's prodding fingers. "Thanks, Alexis." He flashes a grin at David and Stevie. "Come on in. Drinks are in the kitchen." He turns around to lead the way, and David doesn’t miss how Alexis and Stevie’s eyes both drop to check out Patrick’s ass. He makes quick work of extinguishing the flame of jealousy that ignites in his stomach.

Patrick shows them to the kitchen, but leaves a moment later to answer another knock at the door, and David is less successful in hiding his annoyance this time when Alexis and Stevie’s heads swivel again to watch him walk away. He busies himself making a vodka soda.

“Damn, Patrick could get it,” Stevie says, absently.

“Totally.” Alexis nods. “Is he seeing anyone right now?”

David puts back the vodka bottle with a little too much force for reasons completely unrelated to the current conversation. The liquor bottles all clatter together from the impact, drawing the girls’ attention to him.

“Problem, David?” Stevie asks innocently.

“Nope!” he squeaks. “Just slipped.”

“Huh. Interesting. Because you seem a little upset.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Totally fine.”

“Great!” Alexis chimes in. “So you don’t mind if I go for it with Patrick?”

“I mean, I don’t really think you’re his type? Historically speaking? But be my guest.”

Alexis gives him a condescending look. “Mmkay. You just tell yourself that.” She wiggles her fingers at them in a limp wave and flounces out of the kitchen.

Stevie turns to David. “Totally fine, huh?”

“Shut up.”

\----------

The party is okay. Patrick’s friends from work and baseball are all nice enough; he manages to make polite conversation with most and actually have an interesting conversation with one or two. The majority have brought their partners, and the couples are all married, or engaged, or have been together so long they might as well be married. It’s all pretty blandly heteronormative.

What makes the party much better, though, is that Patrick tethers himself to David’s side the whole time. He introduces David to everyone as “his best friend who came from New York to surprise him on his birthday,” gushes about his new position in Vancouver, and tells them how they’ve known each other since high school and have only become better friends over the years. Even when he has to step away, he always comes back a few minutes later with a shoulder squeeze or a brush of his hand across David’s back. David has had much worse evenings.

Unfortunately, right now he’s stuck in a pretty unbearable conversation about preschools, and Patrick has gotten sucked into a discussion across the room that seems to be about sports, if the wild gesticulating is any indication, so David uses the excuse of needing another drink to get out of any further discussion about Montessori versus Waldorf. He’s in the kitchen trying to decide between vodka and whiskey when Alexis finds him.

"Um, David, did Patrick recently get married or something?" 

"What? No! What-- That doesn’t even make sense. Why would you ask that?" 

"Well, I've been trying to flirt with him all night, and I'm getting nothing. Nada." 

"Maybe he's just not into his best friend's little sister, who he’s known since she was thirteen." 

"Mmkay, well, in my experience, when a guy doesn't flirt back with me, even at a _party,_ when he's _drinking,_ he's either newly married, or--” she pokes at David’s shoulder until he huffs in exasperation and turns to look at her “--or he's gay."

Stevie, of course, sensing conflict, chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen. "Who's gay?" 

"No one's gay!" David exclaims.

"Patrick, maybe.” Alexis is practically gleeful.

"Oh, yeah, I could totally see that,” Stevie says. David scowls. Traitor. "He's always been a little flirty with you, even when he was dating Rachel. But tonight is a whole other level. Haven't you noticed? He's been practically attached to you all night. I'm surprised he's not--"

"Oh, David!" Patrick walks through the kitchen doorway. "There you are. I was looking for you." Stevie and Alexis turn to look at David, wearing twin shit-eating grins. 

“I was just grabbing a drink,” he says to Patrick, pointedly ignoring Tweedledee and Tweedledum. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” Patrick smiles and winks--one of his ridiculous eye twitch half-winks that David hates that he loves--and heads back to the party. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Alexis and Stevie pounce.

“Oh my god, _David!_ ”

“Yeah, he’s _definitely_ into you.”

“This is like everything you used to write about in your little diaries coming true!”

Wait, _what?_

“You read my journals?!”

“Um, obviously. You really needed to find a better hiding place than under your mattress. What was I supposed to do, just _not_ read them?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, since Alexis has already read them, does that mean I can--”

“NO.”

“It’s okay, Stevie, I’ll just tell you everything.” She links her arm with Stevie’s and leads her toward the living room.

“This is an emotional attack!” David calls after them, futilely. Alexis pokes her head back into the kitchen.

“Come on, David, don’t want to keep _Patrick_ waiting.”

“Chew on asbestos, please.”

\----------

By 11 p.m., most of Patrick’s friends have headed home, citing early morning commitments or needing to relieve babysitters, and only Alexis, Stevie, and David are left.

“Oh my god, I have the _best_ idea. Let’s play truth or dare!” Alexis exclaims, clapping her hands. “Just like when we were in high school.”

“Um, you didn’t hang out with us when we were in high school, because you’re two years younger than us,” David says.

“No, David, I’m pretty sure I didn’t hang out with you because I was like, way more popular than you and had a ton of friends,” Alexis shoots back. “No offense, Patrick and Stevie.”

They all answer in unison. 

“Hey!” 

“None taken.” 

“I really don’t give a shit.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” Alexis says, “who’s going first?” She punctuates each word with a shoulder shimmy.

"Ooh, I want to ask David first,” Stevie says, looking like the cat who ate the canary. This is not going to end well. David rolls his eyes, but waves a hand, gesturing for her to proceed. 

“Who was your longest crush?" Stevie raises an eyebrow defiantly, and David feels his cheeks heat.

"Crush? What is this, middle school?" His voice sounds tight and guarded, which makes sense, since he absolutely does not want to answer this question in the present company. 

"We're playing truth or dare, David. It's at least a little like middle school.” Patrick blinks up at him owlishly from where he is sitting on the floor and leaning back on his hands with his legs outstretched into the middle of the room, looking long and muscular and delicious.

"Ugh, well, I changed my mind. Dare." 

Stevie's smile turns positively feral. "Okay. I dare you to kiss Patrick." 

Alexis’s eyes widen, and her head whips over to David, then back to Stevie, a delighted smile on her face.

"W-what?!” David stutters, and he hears his voice pitch higher as his heart starts to race. “That's not how dares work. You can't just... _throw_ another person into the dare like that. It's not even Patrick's turn!" 

"It's really fine, David," Patrick says. “I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

"Yes, chill, David!" Alexis chimes in. "It's totally fine! It's just a cute little game." She gives him a rapid series of blinks-that-are-supposed-to-be-winks.

David gets up from the couch, feeling like he's being marched to meet his doom, and sits on the floor next to Patrick, legs criss-crossed. Patrick twists his upper body to face David, looking calm and collected except for the faintest hint of a blush high on his cheeks.

"Okay, here we go..." David says, hesitantly, searching Patrick's face for any signs of last-second panicking. He leans in, waiting for Patrick to pull back at any moment, but time runs out without a sound from Patrick, except for a faint inhale when their lips meet. And then they're kissing. He's kissing Patrick. He's imagined this moment countless times over the last fifteen years: the softness of Patrick's lips, pressing gently--but not too gently--against his; Patrick wrapping a strong hand around the back of David's head, holding him close; Patrick's lips parting just slightly, so that David's lower lip can slide between them. 

Except, he's not just imagining any of it. That's Patrick's hand on his head, keeping David from pulling away too soon. Those are Patrick's soft lips opening for David. That's David's hand on Patrick's lower back, which Patrick is decidedly not shrugging off. 

David has kissed plenty of people he didn't want to kiss, and been kissed by plenty of people who didn't seem to want to be kissing him. Those kisses were always either very dry, with firm, tight lips and tense jaws, or very wet, with tongues and teeth competing to win the performative battle of who could make things sloppier. This kiss is nothing like those. This kiss is soft and sweet and genuine, with careful touches and warm hands. This is not just a kiss on a dare, David realizes suddenly. Patrick wants this. Patrick wants _him._ David lets out a quiet whimper and presses into Patrick's lips just a little more, his hand flexing slightly on Patrick's lower back, and David feels Patrick's fingers tighten in his hair just enough to hint at a tug.

David is about to move to deepen the kiss when the moment is interrupted by exaggerated throat clearing and gagging from the two carnies in the cheap seats. Patrick pulls away as if shocked by a live wire, blushing furiously and rubbing the back of his neck, and David tries to appear very interested in the framed black and white photograph of the Brooklyn Bridge that’s above Patrick’s fireplace.

A few seconds of awkward silence pass, until Stevie finally speaks. "Well, that was thoroughly traumatizing to watch. David, your turn." 

Tension broken, David turns to his sister. “Truth or dare, Alexis.”

"Mmm, truth." 

"Did you, or did you not, murder my Tamagotchis?" 

"Oh my _god_ , David!"

The game continues, but David never makes it back to the couch; instead, he stays next to Patrick on the floor, purposely not ceding any extra space, and David notices that Patrick doesn’t move to give David more room, either. At one point, he feels a light brush against his pinky where his hand is resting on the floor, and he glances down to see Patrick’s hand inching tentatively toward his. David looks up at Patrick, but he's intently watching Alexis and Stevie bicker over whether or not Stevie can reasonably be expected to attempt five consecutive cartwheels in Patrick’s tiny living room. Patrick must sense David’s eyes on him, though, because he turns his head to meet David’s gaze, and David feels Patrick’s pinky hook over his own. A small smile plays on Patrick’s lips, and David’s heart thumps behind his ribs, wild as a caged animal.

“Hello, Earth to David!”

David looks up sharply at the sound of Alexis’s voice. “What?”

“I said, Stevie and I are going to go. Are you coming or staying?”

“Oh, um…” David looks over at Patrick, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs slightly. “I think I’ll...stay?” He feels Patrick’s pinky squeeze his in confirmation, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and David turns back to Alexis. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Patrick can give me a ride back later.”

Stevie snorts. “Sure, okay.” She turns to Patrick. “Happiest of birthdays, sir.”

“Thanks, Stevie.” Patrick stands to give her a hug.

Stevie looks down at David. “Warmest regards.”

David gives her the finger from where he’s still sitting on the floor. “Best Wishes.”

Stevie and Alexis laugh as they turn toward the door, and Patrick follows to walk them out. David takes the opportunity to stand and arrange himself on the couch. Should he stretch out his legs along the cushions? No, too suggestive. Maybe he could sit up… Okay, no, it feels like he’s in a doctor’s waiting room. How about feet up on the coffee table? Yes, better.

David hears the click of the lock on the front door, and a moment later, Patrick walks back into the room, a shy smile on his face, and sits sideways on the couch next to David. Patrick tucks one leg under himself and reaches his left arm across the back cushions to scratch lightly on David's shoulder.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hi," David answers. His face is in imminent danger of breaking into a massive grin, so he fights it by pressing his lips together and hiding the smile in his cheek. If the way Patrick's eyes light up is any indication, though, he's failed spectacularly.

"God, David, you are so beautiful." Patrick's words rush out of him all at once, and he makes a face like he has surprised himself by saying them. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's just that…” He trails off, and his face softens from worry to something warm and fond. “It’s just that I've been thinking it all night, and it slipped out."

David sucks in a breath as a flood of emotion rushes through him. "Patrick, do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that? I mean, not that specifically, although I'm certainly not complaining, but just...some sort of sign that you were into me. I thought you were straight!” Ugh, could he possibly be choosing worse things to say right now? He shakes out his hands. “Fuck, I'm messing this up. What is this? What are we doing? I don’t--"

Patrick puts him out of his misery with a quiet chuckle and a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "David. I like you. I want this. I want _you_ ,” he says, echoing David’s own thoughts from earlier. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you were so far away…” He moves his right hand to grab David’s and fiddles with the silver rings on his fingers. “And then you showed up in Toronto, and I know you have to leave on Monday, but, David, you’re _here_. And I just couldn’t wait any more.” He looks up David. “You wanted this before tonight, too?"

"Of course I did! You're one of my best friends. When I'm with you I just feel...understood, you know? Even more than with Stevie, sometimes. And honestly, have you seen yourself? You're fucking hot, Patrick."

Patrick’s eyes darken, and he surges forward and kisses David with heat and purpose. Patrick's lips are soft and exploring, moving against David's with gorgeous pressure and setting off fireworks inside David's chest; David runs his tongue along Patrick's lower lip and Patrick opens for him eagerly. But when their tongues meet, Patrick and David both groan in unison, and they have to pause and laugh.

Patrick rests his forehead against David's. "Is this okay? I know you said...what you said, but is this too fast? Do you want to talk more first?”

Because he can’t resist the magnetic force of Patrick’s perfect mouth, David kisses him again before answering. “Patrick, I’ve been thinking about kissing you for fifteen years. This is definitely not too fast.” David realizes too late what he’s just admitted, and now it’s his turn to be shocked by his own words. He pulls away quickly. “I mean…”

But Patrick, thank god, doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that David has apparently been pining after him for the entire history of their friendship, because he just laughs and tugs gently at David’s sweater to reel him back in for another kiss. “I’m glad to know you’ve found me so irresistible this whole time.”

“Mmm, except, I did resist? For over a decade? So that might be a bit of a stretch. You couldn’t even wait a day before you kissed me, so who’s actually the irresistible one here?”

“Uh, I believe you were the one that kissed me.” 

“Yeah, on a dare! You were the one who kissed _back_.”

Patrick wraps his arms around David's shoulders and nudges David’s nose with his own. “Are you complaining?”

"No," David whispers, and Patrick's lips are back on his. This time, when Patrick slides his tongue against David's, neither of them stumbles; instead, they both lean into the delicious push and pull. David drops his feet from the coffee table to the floor and wraps a hand around the back of Patrick's neck, thumb teasing at his pulse point, and Patrick nips at David's lower lip in response. The sting of the bite triggers a sharp tug of arousal low in David’s stomach, and his other hand scrabbles for purchase on Patrick's hip so that he can coax him to move closer. Patrick moans at the contact and pulls back for a moment, just enough so that his lips are barely brushing David’s. 

“For the record," Patrick pants into David’s mouth, "I'm definitely not straight."

"I'm getting that impression, yeah," David says, and captures Patrick's lips again. Without breaking the kiss, Patrick shifts to straddle David's lap, and then starts mouthing down his neck until he finds the perfect spot just below David’s ear. "Oh, fuck," David gasps, hips bucking involuntarily. “Sorry.”

“Mm, don’t be,” Patrick murmurs into David’s neck, and grinds his hips down against David. His teeth and lips are working on what’s likely to be a pretty impressive hickey, but David can’t bring himself to care, not when he can feel Patrick through his jeans, gloriously hard against him. His hands slide down tentatively to grip Patrick’s spectacular ass, ready to pull back if Patrick shows any signs of it being a step too far, but instead, Patrick responds by tearing himself away from David’s neck and plunging his tongue deep into David’s mouth. It’s a sloppy, disgusting, delicious kiss, and David is so turned on by his buttoned-up best friend completely losing control that he is instantly, achingly hard.

Patrick must feel it, too, because he leans back to smirk at David while also _grinding his hips in a circle, holy fuck, what is happening._ David regains his composure just enough to slide one hand up Patrick’s back and pull him in tight to his chest while rolling his hips purposefully. Patrick’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open, and David takes the opportunity to finally get his mouth on Patrick’s neck. One of Patrick’s hands snakes up into David’s hair, tangling his fingers in the strands at the crown of his head, but not pulling--at least, not until David gets Patrick’s collar out of the way and bites down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and Patrick lets out the most gorgeous moan David has ever heard.

They make out like horny teenagers, thrusting and writhing and grabbing, and David imagines for one wild moment that they're back in high school, on the old plaid couch in Patrick's basement, doing all of the things he always wanted to. It took them fifteen years, but they're here now, and maybe that's all that matters.

Suddenly, Patrick pushes at David’s chest and slides backwards on his thighs.

“Wait, wait, stop.”

“Sorry, was it too much?”

“No, I was just…” Patrick’s cheeks are pink, and he scrubs a hand over his face. “I was going to come, and I didn’t want to before we'd even gotten our pants off.”

_Oh._

“Oh, _really._ ” David gives Patrick a little shoulder shimmy, and Patrick’s blush deepens. “Well...do you want to keep going?” David asks. “Because if clothes are the only problem, here, then I think I have a solution.”

“Do you, now?” Patrick levels him with a look David has never seen on him before, and, embarrassment apparently out the window, he slides the rest of the way off of David’s lap so that he’s standing in front of him. Patrick starts unbuttoning his own shirt, never breaking eye contact with David as he reveals his toned chest and stomach, a few inches at a time, and David, stupefied, is powerless to do anything but watch. David has seen Patrick shirtless before, of course, during summers in high school and college spent lounging around his parents’ pool, but it’s been years since then, and if he had thought Patrick looked good clothed, then Patrick shirtless is a revelation.

His eyes trail over Patrick’s muscular shoulders, defined biceps, and a set of forearms that frankly should be illegal, and he just wants to _touch._ He leans forward, but Patrick’s lightning-quick reflexes from baseball must transfer here, because David is immediately pushed back down to the couch. Apparently, Patrick’s take-charge attitude transfers, too, and David is definitely, _definitely_ here for that. He tracks the movements of Patrick’s hands as they undo his belt (that ridiculous braided belt that he always wears, but right now, _who cares_ ) and work open the button and zipper of his pants. Patrick bends down to push his jeans to the floor, removes them and his socks, and suddenly Patrick is standing in front of David in nothing but navy blue boxer briefs, cock hard, a dark spot on the front where precum has dampened the fabric. _God damn._

Patrick stalks toward David and leans in, but, troll that he is, stops with his lips a hair’s breadth away from David’s and murmurs, “Your turn.”

David growls and hauls Patrick in for a bruising kiss before pushing him back up and standing to take off his own sweater and pants. David feels exposed, at first, but the way Patrick’s pupils dilate and his jaw goes slack once David is bared in front of him is...gratifying, to say the least.

Patrick moves toward David and cards a gentle hand through David’s chest hair. David watches Patrick watching his own hand traverse David’s flat chest, and something occurs to him.

“Patrick.” 

“Hmm?”

David covers Patrick’s hand with his own to get Patrick’s attention, and Patrick looks back up at him.

“Am I the first guy you’ve been with? I know that I didn't know until today that you weren’t straight, but was there maybe someone you just didn’t mention before?”

Patrick shakes his head. “No. You’re the only one.”

David blows out a breath. “Okay. Okay. Are you sure--”

Patrick interrupts him with a firm kiss. “Yes. Yes, I am absolutely, one hundred percent sure.” 

He slides his free hand down David's arm and slips his hand into David's, and David allows himself to be pulled back to the couch. They resume their positions from before, with Patrick straddling him, but everything feels less frantic now. They kiss languidly, with tongues soft, and hands exploring, and hips rolling to find light friction, but not to finish. After a while, David trails his fingers to the waistband of Patrick’s underwear, and pauses.

“Can I?” he asks.

“Yes,” Patrick breathes, and he leans in to keep kissing David.

Patrick’s cock is perfect--average length, but thick, like how Patrick himself is built--and David jerks him slowly, reveling in the feeling of Patrick in his hand. Patrick lets out delicious whines and moans in between kisses, and soon he’s practically wriggling in David’s lap, trying to hold back the instinctive urge to chase his orgasm. David stills his hand and leans up to nip at Patrick’s earlobe, and murmurs, “Take what you need.”

Patrick _groans_ as he steadies himself with both hands on the back of the couch, bracketing David's head. He thrusts into David’s fist in earnest, snapping his hips and grunting, his skin sticky with perspiration, his face twisted in exquisite pleasure.

“Oh god, David, I’m gonna… I’m…” Patrick surges forward to kiss David fiercely as warm spurts of come land on David’s stomach, until Patrick collapses, spent, head on David’s shoulder.

“Oluffck,” Patrick mumbles, and David can’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He rubs his hands soothingly across Patrick’s back. Patrick sits up, dragging his stubble against David’s, and rests their foreheads together.

“I said, ‘Holy. Fuck.’” He tries to kiss David again, but David is smiling too widely to really accept it.

“Good?”

Patrick punctuates his response with kisses peppered across David’s face. “David. David. Oh my god. So good.”

David manages to kiss Patrick again, despite his own grin, but then grimaces. “Um, not to step on the moment, but I’m kind of covered, here.”

Patrick looks down at David’s stomach, then back up at his eyes. “Looks like it, yeah.” 

Patrick’s face takes on the same wild expression from before, and David knows he’s in trouble. Patrick tucks himself back into his boxers, and then runs his palm along David’s covered cock. His erection had flagged a bit as Patrick was recovering, but it springs back to life at Patrick’s touch.

“Can I touch you?” Patrick asks.

“You- you already are,” David stammers, breathless. Patrick shoots him an admonishing look before moving his hand to the waistband of David’s briefs. He looks up at him in silent question, and David gives a nod of affirmation. Patrick’s hand on David’s cock is inexperienced, but unbelievably good. He has thought about this on nights alone more often than he cares to admit, but the fantasy pales in comparison to the real, live Patrick stroking him. He watches the head of his cock disappear into Patrick’s fist over and over, and he watches Patrick watching _him,_ all of Patrick’s intense determination focused on David, and fuck, this is going to be over faster than he was expecting. 

He drops his head back against the couch cushions and closes his eyes, paying attention to only the sensation of Patrick’s hand, when the movement suddenly stops. He opens his eyes and picks up his head in time to see and feel Patrick running his hand along David’s stomach, collecting his own come on his fingers, and reaching back down for David’s cock. He pauses before he makes contact, eyes locked on David. 

“Okay?”

“Holy shit, you’re going to kill me. Yes, god, very, very okay.” Patrick’s hand is back, and the slick sensation from Patrick's come is enough to send David hurtling to the edge with blinding speed. He barely has time to warn Patrick before his orgasm slams into him, painting stripes of white across Patrick’s flushed chest.

“Patrick,” David pants. “That was amazing.” The look of pride that blooms on Patrick’s face is incandescent, and David can’t help but reach up to kiss him.

“Amazing, huh?” Patrick intones. “So amazing that you might even call me...irresistible?” 

David pulls back and covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. “Oh my god, why are you like this?” he groans. Patrick doesn’t answer right away, so David peeks out from between his fingers, and is met with the deadly combined force of Patrick’s earnest, upside-down smile and his wide brown eyes.

“I think you like me like this,” he coos, prying David’s hands off of his face and replacing them with kisses. 

David inhales sharply and plants his hands firmly on the sides of Patrick’s face, holding his head in place. “I do,” he says, without a hint of sarcasm. “I really, really do.” 

Patrick smiles softly and leans in to wrap his arms around David’s shoulders again, so David releases his face and reaches behind Patrick’s back to hold him close. It's almost a perfect moment, until it's interrupted by the squelch of David’s come, still left on Patrick’s chest. They grimace in unison.

“We should get cleaned up,” Patrick says.

“Yes, please,” David agrees.

\----------

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride back?" Patrick asks, as he pulls open the door to his apartment and David steps out into the hallway. “Or you could just stay. I’d love for you to stay.”

"I know. I want to, but I don’t think I should. Not tonight. Let's just take a little bit of space tonight to...process."

Patrick frowns. "Wait, do you regret--"

"NO," David says forcefully. "No. No, no, no." He leans down to place a soft kiss to Patrick's pink, swollen lips. "No regrets. I just want us to figure out what we each want. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

"We can talk whenever you'd like," Patrick says sweetly. 

"Text me in the morning." David pauses. "Just not--"

"Not before 10 a.m. I know." Patrick leans up and kisses David softly on the cheek. "Good night, David."

"Happy Birthday, Patrick."


	3. I never felt that way about anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday

Patrick  
  
**Today** 10:04 AM  
**Patrick:** Good morning, David. 🙂  
  
**David:** Good morning, Patrick.  
  
**David:** You waited four whole minutes past 10. What took you so long?  
  
**Patrick:** I didn’t want to seem too eager. Just playing it cool.  
  
**David:** Ah, yes. Very suave.  
  
**Patrick:** Thank you.  
  
**Patrick:** Can I take you out to brunch today?  
  
**David:** Yeah, I’d like that.  
  
**Patrick:**...Like, on a date. I want to take you on a date.  
  
**David:** Yes, Patrick, I will go on a brunch date with you.  
  
**Patrick:** Is it okay if I pick the restaurant?  
  
**David:** As long as they have pancakes.  
  
**Patrick:** Obviously.  
  


"The Village, huh?" David teases, while Patrick is trying to concentrate on parallel parking. "I'm learning all kinds of new things about you this weekend." They're in Toronto's de facto gay neighborhood, and rainbow flags are hanging everywhere in celebration of Pride month. 

Patrick straightens out the car and shifts into park, and then turns to face David. "Maybe you'll learn some more new things about me later." He waggles his eyebrows in a way that's meant to be suggestive, but really just makes David laugh.

"Ooh, like what? Are you actually Patrick's long-lost evil twin, sent here to seduce me into destroying the real Patrick?"

"That sounds like a plotline from your mother's show." He opens his door and steps out onto the street, and David follows.

"Or do you have a secret family with two wives and seven kids? Wait, no. I changed my mind. I don't like that one." He solemnly places a hand on Patrick's shoulder as they walk. "I can't be a sister wife, Patrick." 

He means it as a joke, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he stiffens, wondering if he's ventured too close to a topic that it's _way_ too soon to go anywhere near. "Not that...I mean..."

Patrick just chuckles and reaches up to pat David's hand. "I would never ask you to be a sister wife, David."

David's anxiety level instantly drops from ninety-seven to a much more comfortable twenty-three. "Okay, good. Oh! Or maybe you're secretly an international spy, and you've been assigned to protect me, but now we've had sex and the mission is compromised… You know what, actually, that one's hot. I'd be fine with it if you were harboring that little secret."

"But if I told you, then I’d have to kill you."

"Mmm. Worth it." And because he can, David stops and wraps an arm around Patrick's lower back to draw him in for a sweet kiss, right there on the sidewalk, in downtown Toronto, where everyone can see them, and it's perfect. It’s everything he's ever wanted. 

The specter of their conversation yet-to-come is still looming over David. He doesn’t know what Patrick wants, or where this is going, or what they--together--would look like, especially with David moving clear across the country in approximately twenty-four hours. Most of David's instincts are screaming at him to run, to push Patrick away and pass last night off as nothing but a fun, one-time thing. But Patrick had asked him on a date before David even made it out of bed this morning, and that one, simple, miraculous truth gives him enough strength to be able to listen to the tiny shards of hope that live buried under mountains of insecurities. He knows he owes it to himself--and his fifteen-year-old self, and his twenty-year-old self, and his twenty-five-year-old self--to at least give this a chance. So he manages to tell his anxiety to fuck off for the moment, and instead leans into the electricity and joy coursing through him as he kisses Patrick.

When they separate, Patrick has a soft, dazed look on his face that quickly morphs into a fond smile. He leans up to give David another quick peck, and then interlaces their fingers and tugs David across the street.

"Come on, it's right here." He leads David to a brick building with red marquee letters in the window that read "SMITH," and up a set of stairs through a heavy wooden door. The host is wearing a fitted white t-shirt with a thin band of rainbow stripes across their chest. It's relatively subtle, but seeing someone literally wearing their pride across their heart, with Patrick by his side, holding his hand, pokes at something soft inside him, and he feels tendrils of warmth curling through his gut.

"Hi," Patrick says. "Reservation for Brewer at 1:00?"

The host taps at the iPad in their hand. "Yup, I have you right here. Party of two?" Patrick nods in confirmation. "Excellent. There's a table available on the patio if you'd like, or if you'd prefer to eat inside, it will just be a few minutes."

Patrick looks over at David. "Outside?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

"Great," the host says. "Right this way."

They're led to a patio nestled between the restaurant and the building behind it. The adjacent four-story brick structures are imposing in the small space, but the atmosphere is softened by the glow of the cafe lights strung above them and the presence of a large rainbow flag affixed to the wall. The host seats them at a table at the end of a long banquette with stone-colored cushions. David slides onto the bench and Patrick sits in the chair across from him, and the host leaves them with their menus.

"This is really lovely," David says sincerely. "What made you choose it?"

Patrick reaches across the table and taps on David's menu. "Look and see."

David skims the page. "Oh my god. One of these options is just a plate of doughnuts."

Patrick grins. "I may have known something about that. Keep going."

His eyes land on...holy shit. "Strawberry cheesecake pancakes. Patrick." He gives Patrick a look that he hopes conveys the depth of his love for the type of restaurant that unapologetically passes off dessert as breakfast food.

Patrick just gives him a terrible half-wink that goes straight to David's heart.

They order, and they talk and joke like they always have, and they sip their drinks, and it’s the best date David has ever been on, even without having eaten any food yet. But the elephant is still in the room; they can’t avoid it forever. So once David has quelled his nerves with half a mimosa, he broaches the subject.

"So, we need to talk.” He twists one of his rings on his finger. “I'm just not usually very good at this? And I guess I'm, um, hoping you didn't bring me here just so that I could already be full of pancakes when you tell me yesterday was a mistake."

"Definitely not a mistake, David." Patrick reaches his hand across the table, palm up, for David to place his own into, and his shoulders instantly relax at Patrick's touch. "Can I tell you why I chose this place to eat, besides just your love of dessert for breakfast?”

David nods. Of course Patrick remembered that.

“Okay, well, first, I never really told you why Rachel and I broke up this last time, or how I knew it would stick. It was, uh, it was because of you.”

“Me? Oh, god, Patrick, I’m sorry if I did anything to--”

“No, David, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He squeezes David’s hand. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen you in a long time, and I realized that I was much more interested in talking to you over text or on the phone than I was in talking to Rachel, who was there in person. And I knew that meant Rachel and I weren't right for each other." He smiles sadly. “And then you got the promotion right after that, and that meant you couldn’t come back to visit, and you were always working late, so we didn’t get to talk as much… Do you know this was the longest we'd ever gone without seeing each other?"

"Yeah, I did. I hated it. And I really was unbelievably busy. But, um--" he reaches for his mimosa for another drink "--it was probably also self-preservation, in a way? Because I liked you _so_ much, and Rachel had always been there as kind of a mental buffer for me. Like, I had just always assumed you two would get engaged, get married, white picket fence..." He waves his hand in the air to silently elaborate. "You know, the whole thing. I mean, I really did think you were straight, but when I saw how sure you were that you and Rachel weren't getting back together this time, it's like my brain wouldn't listen to me, and every time we texted or FaceTimed I would get so hopeful that something would happen, and then I would spend the next ten hours having to talk myself out of it." He shakes his head at the memory. "So I think I might have pulled away. Subconsciously. Or not so subconsciously. But fuck, I missed you so much, Patrick."

"I missed you." Patrick stands for a moment to lean across the table and press a soft kiss to David's lips. "God, I really missed you."

Patrick’s big, loud eyes are staring straight into David's soul, composing sonnets that can be read only by gazing into those honeyed pools of brown. It's overwhelming, being looked at like this, seen like this.

"Before," Patrick continues, "when we would see each other every few months, I always figured that I was thinking about you so much because I was amped up from your last visit, or looking forward to the next one. But this past year...I realized that even though we weren’t talking as much, I was thinking about you _more_. Constantly. All I wanted to do every day was see your gorgeous face and tell you about work, and what I was having for dinner, and the dumb things that happened at baseball practice."

David grimaces. "You know my stance on team sports, though."

Patrick chuckles and picks up David’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I do. But I also know that you'll listen to me anyway. And, I know that the more you tease me about it, the more it means you actually do understand what I'm talking about. You just don't want to admit it." 

David starts to protest, but he’s interrupted by their server returning with their food. He did have a very compelling argument prepared, but maybe it can wait until after breakfast.

The pancakes are delicious, of course, as are the doughnuts that Patrick ordered "to share," but really, he's only eaten one of the five doughnut holes and left the rest for David. And god, David loves him. He _loves_ him, and he still doesn't know where they stand, and fuck, they have to keep talking, don't they. He should bring it up again. Right after this last doughnut.

"So," David begins, after he's finished chewing, "you never finished telling me why you chose this place, delicious food aside."

Patrick smiles around a forkful of smoked salmon eggs Benedict. He swallows his bite and says, "You know how beautiful you are, right?" He takes a sip of his tea, never breaking eye contact.

David preens. "I mean, I do have a nine-step skincare regimen I do twice a day…"

"I know," Patrick says warmly. "You _are_ beautiful. Before recently, I used to tell myself that you were just 'objectively good-looking'"--he holds up his fingers and makes self-deprecating air quotes--"and that you were my best friend, and that's why I wanted to just stare at you all the time."

“Well, by all means, follow your bliss."

"Oh, I plan to," Patrick says huskily, and David feels an inconveniently-timed tug of arousal low in his stomach. He shifts in his seat, and Patrick, the asshole, smirks as if he knows exactly what David's thinking. "But one day I was scrolling through years of your old Instagram posts--"

"A perfectly normal, totally straight thing to do," David says dryly.

"Right. And I thought, 'My god, he is so gorgeous.'" David's heart melts, but Patrick keeps talking, oblivious to the cardiac stress he's just inflicted upon David. "And once I let myself go down that path...it was a pretty quick journey to figuring out the real reason things never worked with Rachel. I’m gay, David.”

“Oh,” David breathes. He reaches for Patrick's hand and gives it a squeeze. “Okay. Why didn’t you tell me before? Or Stevie, even?”

“I haven’t told many people. Just my parents and Rachel. And it took me a while before I was ready to tell any of them."

David hums sympathetically.

"When I figured it out, or at least, when I started thinking I might have figured it out, I started coming to the Village more." 

David raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "As in…"

"Just being here," Patrick explains. "I would walk around, or go to a coffee shop, and just sort of let myself think of myself as gay. Figure out what it felt like to be gay, to be around other queer people with the knowledge that I was one of them."

David's heart breaks for him. "Patrick. You didn't have to do all this alone."

Patrick looks up at the ceiling for a moment, considering. "I think...I think I kind of wanted to, though? I wanted to try out different versions of myself without having to explain it or even talk about it. I even went to a club one night," he confesses. 

"What?!" David squawks. "Tell me everything!" But... "Wait. You said last night…" He pauses and looks around, suddenly remembering that there are other patrons in the restaurant.

Patrick pats David's hand reassuringly. "I meant that. The club scene was not for me. I just wanted to try it." He shrugs. "But...I did go for a drink a couple times at a bar. And...I went on one date. Here."

David's heart starts beating wildly. "So...so you brought me to the place where you had a date. With another guy."

"That's correct."

He's starting to spiral. "And you did that because...you want this to be our one date? Or because this is your special place with him and you wanted me to see it? Or, um…" David is having a heart attack. He's sure of it. "Patrick, I'm going to need you to use more words."

Patrick smiles and stands from his chair. Oh god, he's leaving, isn't he. But no, he's coming to sit next to David on the bench, which, incorrect, but he'll allow it as long as Patrick starts talking right fucking now.

Patrick takes both of David's hands. "When I was on my one date, I was only thinking about you. What food _you_ would have ordered. How the jokes I told would have made _you_ laugh. How you would have had all these opinions about the terrible shoes he was wearing--"

"What did they look like?" David interrupts.

Patrick drops David's hands to gesticulate demonstratively. "They were like, long and pointy, but then--"

"Squared off at the toe?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, yeah, I have _many_ thoughts on those." David grimaces.

Patrick drops a hand to David's thigh and smiles, relaxed. "Exactly. So that's when I knew."

"Knew...what?"

Patrick looks at him seriously for a moment before answering, his eyes wide and sparkling. "That I was in love with you."

David's brain fills with static. "You...you're…"

"I'm in love with you. This is where I realized it."

David knows there are people all around them, he knows that, but right now, other restaurant patrons be damned. They've probably heard enough of this saga; they might as well get to see the end of it. David surges forward and kisses Patrick deeply, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and drawing him in tight, pouring out his love for Patrick through his touch and praying to whichever gods are listening that Patrick understands.

David's sense of decorum eventually comes back online, and he slows the kiss in favor of pulling Patrick into a hug, nuzzling into his neck. He knows he should tell Patrick. He _wants_ to tell Patrick. The words are right there. But he just can't...quite…

"It's okay," Patrick murmurs, like he knows David so well he can read his mind. "You can say it whenever you're ready."

David has no idea how he got this lucky, and that thought cracks something open inside him, just enough to feel a little bit brave. 

"I love you, too," he whispers. Patrick sucks in a breath and hugs him tighter, and David feels him press a kiss to his temple, and he was wrong before. _This_ is everything he's ever wanted.

Eventually, they pull away, and Patrick goes back to his chair so they can pretend to be normal adults instead of lovesick puppies who can't stand to be more than three inches away from each other at any time. Except, they kind of _are_ lovesick puppies who can't stand to be more than three inches away from each other at any time. They hold hands and make googly-eyes at each other while they finish their now-cold breakfasts, David rubs Patrick’s forearm while Patrick signs the receipt, Patrick leads David out of the restaurant with a gentle hand on his lower back, and when they get back to the car, with no one else in sight, David pins Patrick against the driver’s side door and drags his collar out of the way to bite down on the half-hickey that he left on Patrick’s shoulder the night before. Patrick gasps and pulls David in by the hips, and David keeps sucking and biting to finish what he had started.

“David,” Patrick practically whines.

“Mhmm?” David answers absently. He’s in the middle of something, here.

“Let’s go-- Oh, fuck. Let’s go back to my apartment.”

David lifts up his head and quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Are you seriously asking? God, yes, get in the damn car.”

David’s mouth goes dry. Jesus, he used to find take-charge Patrick a little intimidating, maybe even a little frustrating at times. But when that kind of energy is directed at him, in this context? It’s...really something. David scurries to his side of the car and practically throws himself into the seat, and waves his hands at Patrick.

“What are you waiting for? Go!”

Patrick smirks and reaches over to wrap a hand around the back of David’s neck, drawing him in for a chaste kiss. “I love it when you sweet-talk me,” he teases.

Oh, David can play this game. He drops his voice low and breathy, to the tone he used to use whenever he wanted to pick up any one of the various Patrick placeholders he had hooked up with in New York. “I’ll talk any way you want, as soon as you get us back to your place.” 

And yes, that voice seems to work on Patrick, too, because his eyes widen, and the tips of his ears go pink, and he stammers out, “O-okay.”

\----------

Patrick must break every land speed record, because they make it to his apartment in far less time than they should have. As soon as they’re inside, Patrick kicks the door closed and David shoves him up against it, kissing Patrick hard and holding him in place with one hand on his hip and the other braced on the door. Patrick kisses back hungrily, tongue fucking into David’s mouth, fingers hooked into his belt loops. David moves his attention to Patrick’s jaw, running his teeth lightly over his stubble, pressing kisses into his skin. He feels Patrick’s hands move toward the button on David’s jeans, which, yes, absolutely, except that David had a different vision for how this might go. They only made it to the couch last night; he'd like to at least get beyond the hallway this time. David puts a hand over Patrick’s to stop him.

Patrick pulls back immediately. “Everything okay?”

“Mmm, yes. This domineering side of you is extremely sexy, and I am very here for it. But maybe not exactly...here, here? Could we...” he trails off.

Patrick smirks and puts his palm on David’s chest to push him back, then turns to head further into the apartment. He gives David’s belt loop another tug as he passes by.

“Come on, David.”

He trips over his own feet in his rush to follow, and Patrick just laughs at him, so the moment they’re in Patrick’s bedroom, he strips off his own sweater and t-shirt and quirks an eyebrow at Patrick in retaliation. Patrick stops laughing then. David moves toward Patrick, and they undress each other quickly, all traces of their game gone. David leads Patrick to the bed and pulls him down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s strong back and feeling the muscles shift under his palms. They keep kissing like that, tongues exploring, hands grabbing, teeth nipping, both growing harder, until David is so unbelievably turned on that he can hardly wait a second more.

“What do you want, Patrick?” he asks, breathily.

Patrick pushes himself up to look David in the eye. “I want to suck you.”

David’s cock twitches at the sound of those words coming out of Patrick’s mouth.

“Yeah, I think I can be amenable to that,” he croaks. 

Patrick moves away from David and climbs off the bed, which is exactly the opposite of what should be happening right now. “Where are you going?”

Patrick blushes, a gorgeous contradiction to his hard cock jutting out proudly below his stomach. “Can you, um, can you sit on the edge of the bed?”

 _Oh._ This is not what David was expecting. “Are you sure?” he asks, as he sits up and drops his feet to the floor. He leans back on his hands, and Patrick’s eyes darken, so yes, apparently he’s very sure. Patrick leans in to rest his hands on David’s thighs and mouth across his chest and down his stomach, until he drops to his knees between David’s legs. 

"Do you know how much I’ve thought about this?” Patrick asks. “Being on my knees for you?”

 _Holy fuck._

Patrick doesn’t wait for an answer, just leans in and licks a wet stripe up the underside of David’s cock before taking the head into his mouth and suckling lightly, humming in pleasure, and David doesn’t think anything in his life has ever felt better than this. Patrick wraps a hand around the base of David’s cock and sinks his mouth down to meet his fist, bobbing and sucking, wet and sloppy, moaning like David is the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. It’s erratic and uncoordinated, but it’s Patrick, so nothing else matters. 

He reaches a hand down to pet Patrick’s head and cup his cheek. Patrick pauses and looks up at David through his eyelashes, smiling as much as he can with his lips wrapped around David’s dick, before he drops his gaze and goes back to taking David apart piece by piece.

David loses himself in the sensation of Patrick's mouth, warm and slick on him, and sinks into the slowly building coil of warmth and pleasure. He sees Patrick reach for his own cock, pulling just twice to take the edge off, and the thought that Patrick is so turned on by David that he can't help but touch himself sends a jolt of arousal through David so strong that he has to force himself to keep his hips still on the bed. 

David's getting close, so he warns Patrick, who pulls off to jerk him while spouting off a litany of praise. 

“God, you taste amazing, David. You are so gorgeous. So good. I can’t believe I get to do this for you. I love you so much.”

It’s the last statement that instantly pushes David over the edge, coming over Patrick’s fist with a shout. He falls back onto the bed, breathless, and he feels Patrick flop down next to him and press a kiss to his shoulder. David turns his head to look at Patrick, just in time to see him lift his come-covered right hand and consider it for a moment, before bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick. Is this what I’ve been missing out on all these years?”

Patrick smiles lasciviously at him from behind his hand as he laps off the last of David’s come. “No. This is what _I’ve_ been missing out on all these years.”

Good god. Patrick switches between dirty talk and earnest sweetness so quickly David can hardly keep track of which is which. He rolls onto his side and pushes himself up so he's above Patrick, and then leans down to kiss him, licking into Patrick’s mouth and tasting himself on Patrick’s tongue. He pulls back and rests his forehead against Patrick’s.

“So you thought about that, huh?”

Patrick chuckles. “Yeah. A lot.”

David relaxes back down to the bed, still on his side, facing Patrick. “What else did you think about?” he asks, voice husky, hand brushing lightly up and down Patrick's hip.

Patrick sucks in a breath. “I thought about you doing that to me. I thought...I thought about you fingering me while you do that.”

_Hell yes._

“Oh, we can definitely make that happen.” He gives Patrick another firm kiss, then nods toward the pillows. “Lie on your back for me?”

Patrick scrambles gracelessly to the head of the bed and flops down, his cock red and full, streaking precum across his stomach. “I’m not going to last,” he confesses.

“Good,” David says. “That means we get to do it again sooner.” Patrick throws his head back in laughter, and he’s so gorgeous that David can’t help the words that tumble out. 

“I love you,” he says quietly. Patrick’s face softens, and he waves his hands towards David, gesturing for him to come closer, and he pulls David in for a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too," Patrick breathes.

David is so happy he feels like he's liable to get up and start running around the room just to burn off the energy buzzing inside of him, so instead of embarrassing himself by doing any actual running in front of Patrick, he decides to put that energy into something he's much better at.

He slides down Patrick's stomach and swallows him down to the hilt in one go, and Patrick arches off the bed with a gasp.

"Holy shit. _David._ "

David hums in response and flutters his tongue against the underside of Patrick's cock, and Patrick whines and reaches over his head to grab onto the bars of his headboard, biceps flexing as he grips tight against the force of his arousal. The sight is so incandescently hot that David groans around Patrick's cock, and Patrick's hips buck up again.

"Seriously, David, I'm going to come in about four seconds if you keep doing that."

David pulls off with a pop and gives the head a tiny kitten lick while looking right into Patrick's eyes. Patrick whines again and drops his head onto the pillow, covering his eyes with his arm.

" _David."_

David grins. "Lube?"

Patrick sits up to reach into the drawer of the nightstand and hands David the bottle, and David pops open the cap.

"Bend your knees for me?" Patrick does, and David drizzles some lube onto his fingers before lightly rubbing across Patrick's hole. Patrick moans at the contact, and his cock lets out a little spurt of precum. 

"Still okay?" David asks.

"Yessss," Patrick hisses.

David pushes a finger gently into Patrick, who groans and immediately reaches for the bars on the headboard again. That is something they will _definitely_ be exploring another time, but there are more pressing matters at the moment. 

Patrick's ass is warm and tight and sensitive, and Patrick lets out little gasps and whimpers every time David brushes his prostate. David nuzzles into the crease of Patrick's hip and thigh, inhaling Patrick's scent and dragging his tongue along the coarse hairs, before moving his attention to Patrick's thigh and sucking a dark hickey into the pale skin.

"I'm going to make you come now, okay? Will you come in my mouth?"

"God, David, _yes._ You are so fucking hot."

David carefully slides in a second lubed finger as Patrick moans long and low above him. He takes Patrick in his mouth again, bobbing his head a few times while sucking lightly and fucking his fingers into him, using his thumb to tease the rim and his perineum. David savors the taste of Patrick--bitter, salty, a little bit like soap--as he devours his cock. David can't get hard again yet, but his own cock is trying valiantly to rejoin the party at the sight, sound, scent, feel, and taste of Patrick spread out for him.

He can tell Patrick is about to come by the way his abs and his ass start to tighten, so in one smooth motion, he crooks his fingers, sucks Patrick all the way down, and swallows around his cock. Patrick _yells_ as he orgasms, spilling come straight down David's throat, and David takes it greedily.

David pulls off Patrick and gives his softening cock one more lick as he removes his fingers from Patrick's ass. Patrick whimpers and drops his arms dramatically to the bed, and David crawls up his body to rest his chin on Patrick's chest. He rides the wave of Patrick's breath, his head rising and falling with Patrick's inhales and exhales as Patrick comes back to Earth. After a minute, Patrick blinks his eyes open.

David smiles at him. "Hi, there."

Patrick huffs a laugh. "Hey." He reaches down to run a hand through David's hair. "That was...god, I don't have a word for what that was. Incredible? Unbelievable? Mind-blowing?"

"I mean, it wasn't just your mind I was blowing, though I will take the compliment."

Patrick laughs again, then urges David up by the shoulders to kiss him sweetly. David drags himself out of bed for a minute to wash his hands, and then they tug the covers over themselves and David snuggles into Patrick's side. David closes his eyes, breathing in Patrick's scent and savoring the simple joy of finally being allowed to be close to him like this. David must doze off, because when he opens his eyes, the shadows in Patrick's room have shifted slightly, and the light is just starting to turn golden. He feels Patrick's hand rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder, so he knows Patrick is already awake. 

David reaches up to trace mindless patterns through the sparse brown hair scattered across Patrick's pecs and watches the late afternoon sun play off the hints of auburn hidden there. Here, in the hazy light of Patrick's apartment, in the warmth of his bed, in the safety of his arms, David lets himself be vulnerable. 

"I've loved you for so long," he whispers into Patrick's chest, like it's a secret that only Patrick's heart is meant to hear.

Davis feels the vibrations of Patrick's hum of response; feels the soft press of a kiss on the top of his head. "I've loved you for so long, too," he murmurs. "I don’t know when it happened, exactly. I just know it took me too many years to realize it.” He lightly rakes his blunt nails up and down David’s back, and David snuggles into him to warm the goosebumps that erupt from his touch. David feels Patrick shifting under his head, so he lifts up to give him room, and Patrick moves so that they are lying on their sides facing each other, nose-to-nose, curled into each other like parentheses. 

“So, what now?” David asks.

“Now, this--” Patrick gives him a kiss on his nose "--and this--" one each on his cheek and his forehead "--and this." He presses a lingering kiss to David's lips, and David’s heart is so full that he never wants to leave this bed. Except...

"Patrick, I still have to go to Vancouver tomorrow. My job starts on Wednesday."

“I know.” Patrick clears his throat and reaches out to smooth one of David’s eyebrows with his thumb. "I was thinking about that, actually? And I thought...what if I come with you?"

David sits bolt upright. "What? Really?"

Patrick sits up with less urgency, and then shrugs. "What's keeping me here? A mediocre job and a boring apartment? Why would I stay here for that, when the only person who has ever made me feel right, and whole, and like I can truly breathe, is all the way across the country?”

“But...but your family and your friends are all here,” David hears his voice protest, as his heart sings out _please, maybe, finally_.

“Of course I love my friends, but they're out there living their own lives. And as for my family, there's FaceTime and these wonderful things called airplanes. I want to come with you, David, if you want that. I want to be with you.”

"Baseball?" David asks weakly.

"David." Patrick's voice is gentle; his face so full of love that David can’t do anything except tip his head back and squeeze his eyes closed. When he finally feels ready to look back at Patrick, his earnest brown eyes are begging David to kiss him. So of course, he does.

They don't talk for a long time after that, except to say _more_ and _harder_ and _just like that_ , and _yes_ and _yes_ and _yes_ , over and over again.


	4. I kissed your face in the setting sun

Once the decision is made for Patrick to come to Vancouver, there are still logistics to work out. They are most worried about having to break the news to Stevie, but they take her out for drinks that night to soften the blow, and when they tell her that they’re together, she tears up and smiles so wide that she has to punch both of them in the shoulder to cover up her joy. So they think everything will be okay. Patrick has to finish his current work project, give his two weeks notice, break his lease, and pack up his apartment. He also has to look for a new job, though he can do more of that when he actually gets to Vancouver. David still has to make the trip by himself to move in and start his job, except that when he unpacks, he leaves half of the drawers (okay, a quarter of the drawers) empty for Patrick's clothes, and when he meets his new coworkers at the gallery, he tells them that his boyfriend will be joining him soon.

Finally, almost four weeks after Patrick’s birthday, David is on a Thursday night red-eye to Toronto, and as soon as he lands, in the early dawn hours of Friday morning, he's in the passenger seat of Patrick's stuffed-to-the-gills car, headed back to Vancouver. They don't have as much time as they would have liked for a cross-Canada road trip, but David had been lucky to be able to take off Friday, plus Monday and Tuesday next week, so between that and Patrick's planned pace of a bruising ten hours of driving each day, they can splurge a little on the total drive time for the route and take the Trans-Canada Highway instead of dipping south through the United States.

They stop for lunch that first day in Sault Ste. Marie, where Patrick insists that they eat their sandwiches on a bench that overlooks the locks emptying and filling, moving a freight ship through at glacial speed. David would have lost interest after approximately 0.3 seconds, except that he passes the time watching Patrick's adorably enthralled face, instead. So it's not all bad. 

In the days that follow, they stop at scenic overlooks and take cheesy selfies in which David hardly recognizes himself because he's smiling so widely; they stop at tacky tourist traps like the Mac the Moose in Saskatchewan, where Patrick holds up the most ridiculous souvenir shop items he can find and David pretends to be morally offended by their mere existence just so he can hear Patrick laugh; they stop to eat at crappy fast food places, except when Patrick surprises David for dinner on Monday by taking them to Workshop Kitchen + Culture in Calgary, because apparently it's their one-month anniversary and Patrick is a ridiculous sap; and they spend their nights at roadside motels where they press each other into the mattresses, biting and licking at shoulders and necks and hips and thighs, hands fisting tightly in the sheets in pleasure. And through it all, they hold hands, kiss temples, and slip arms around each others' waists, whispering _I love you, I love you, I love you_. 

They might not ever be able to make up for fifteen years’ worth of lost opportunities to say it, but they’ll damn sure try.

They reach Vancouver at dinner time on Tuesday, so they order a pizza, and Patrick unloads his car while David unpacks Patrick's suitcases. David takes out Patrick’s clothes with reverence, despite Patrick’s haphazard folding technique, and refolds them so neatly it would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. He arranges the clothes carefully in the drawers he had left empty, and with every pair of mid-range denim he tucks away, the apartment starts to feel more and more like home. 

When the pizza arrives, they drink wine and eat off of real plates at their-- _their!_ \--kitchen table. David laughs at Patrick when all of the cheese comes off his slice at once, and then plops into his lap and kisses his pout away, tasting the acidity of the sauce and the sweetness of the wine on his lips. After they eat, Patrick washes the dishes while David dries, and then they curl up together on the couch to watch _The Proposal_ (it might be mostly David’s pick, but shirtless Ryan Reynolds is a gift for both of them). Patrick props his feet up on the coffee table and David lies across the couch with his head on a pillow in Patrick's lap, and Patrick cards his fingers gently, mindlessly though David's hair. 

When the movie ends, they share a shower, ostensibly to save water and time, but in reality, they stay under the spray until the water runs cold and just cross their fingers they don’t get any noise complaints on their first night. They put on PJs and brush their teeth side-by-side, and when David walks into _their_ bedroom after completing his skincare routine, Patrick is already passed out, snoring lightly with a book resting open on his chest. David's stomach swoops with love and contentment at the sight of this wonderful man--his best friend--who has _chosen_ him. 

He thinks about who they used to be, all those years ago. So many things that had seemed so important back then have faded into the ether: forgotten friends, forgotten romances, forgotten aspirations. They've grown and changed, replacing old hopes with new dreams. But in spite of distance, and time, and all the hurdles that could have caused them to fall out of touch, they've made it here, together, on the precipice of something new and wonderful. There are thousands of unknowns ahead, but David has never felt so settled and been so sure that he's exactly where he's supposed to be.

David gently removes the book from Patrick's chest, replacing his bookmark and turning off the bedside lamp. Patrick stirs as David climbs under the covers, shifting to nuzzle into David's chest and mumble, "Mmmmlove you," before immediately falling back to sleep. 

David presses a soft kiss to the top of Patrick's beautiful head, and he eventually joins Patrick in sleep, the rest of the night and the rest of their lives stretching out quietly, blissfully in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt very scary to post this chapter by chapter rather than just throwing it all out there and running away. If you came along for the ride, thank you! If you waited to read this all in one shot, thank you, too!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://designatedgrape.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I'd be remiss if I didn't mention another recently-posted long-distance friendship fic that's now complete: startswithhope's [in the direction of you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163286/chapters/66339593). It's incredible. If you haven't read it yet, go now!


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